


Your Highness

by dreamofhorses



Series: 30 Days Porn Challenge [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Out of character clothing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, That Damn Red Cape From The King, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofhorses/pseuds/dreamofhorses
Summary: An "out of character clothing" porn challenge, written at the time when I couldn't get that damn red costume cape from The King out of my mind.





	Your Highness

The 4pm sunlight streaming through Armie’s window was more golden, more tentative,  _ lazier _ somehow than the sunlight at 11am. And Timmy would know. They’d been in bed at 11am too, they’d been there all day, and every time Timmy would go to get out of bed, go to even  _ get dressed _ , Armie would smack his ass, or grab his hip and pull him in for a rough kiss, or roll another joint and they’d end up tangled in the bedsheets, blowing smoke into each other’s mouths, and somehow all these beginnings led to a single ending, of limbs and cocks and sweat tangled together and moans dissolving into the summer afternoon sun.

 

“I’ve got to at least get a soda or something,” Timmy murmurs, passing the joint to Armie, and finally succeeding in getting out of bed for the first time that day. He slips through the hallway to the kitchen, not even bothering with a robe. He’ll be back in bed in five minutes and Armie will just take it off him again anyway...maybe tie his wrists with the belt of the robe again, maybe think of something new to do with Timmy, and terry cloth, and a weekend stretching ahead with no plans.

 

Halfway through a bottle of purple Gatorade, Timmy gets the idea.

 

When he reaches the bedroom doorway, Armie’s laying on his back, eyes closed, one long leg dangling halfway off the bed. The afternoon sunlight comes through the blinds in languid stripes across Armie’s face. Armie’s put their joint out in the ashtray, and the sunbeams catch on the remnants of smoke in the air.

 

Timmy clears his throat. Armie’s blue eyes flutter open, flashes of color in the room full of golden light. Armie sees what Timmy’s wearing and for a second it looks like he might laugh, might ruin the mood. Then he sees Timmy’s face, sees that he’s serious or at least trying to be, and sits up inquisitively on the bed.

 

The red cape brushes the carpet as Timmy walks into the room. Filming’s been over for months now, but they let him take the cape home and he couldn’t very well refuse. He never planned to wear it, figured he’d auction it off later for charity. But this cape has no belts or ties Armie can use against him. It falls around Timmy in a perfect circle, hiding his body until he wants to show it. And suddenly these powers he could have over Armie in this cape seem like  _ fun _ .

 

Armie’s eyes are questioning, playful deep down but willing to play out Timmy’s scenario and see where it goes. Timmy squares his head, gives himself an air of grandeur, and lets a flicker of playfulness flash through his eyes. Timmy holds Armie’s gaze and utters his first command. “Kneel.”

 

At the command, something in Armie just  _ submits _ and Timmy makes a note of it,  _ I’ve got to remember that for later _ , but for now Armie crosses the room to the doorway, head and eyes cast down, and just  _ drops _ at Timmy’s feet. He goes down on one knee first and Timmy just has time to think  _ he looks good like that, yes he does _ before Armie drops his other knee, lowers his head, and waits.

Timmy takes his time walking behind Armie, swishing the sides of the cape back and forth in front of him. When he reaches Armie’s back he stands for a moment, admiring the straight ridge of Armie’s spine, his feet curled under him on the floor. Armie’s stillness emboldens Timmy, and he opens the cape at last, to draw the edge of it up Armie’s spine to the nape of his neck. At the first touch Armie’s stillness shatters. He shivers, tries to suppress it, only ends up shuddering more as Timmy lightly,  _ slowly _ draws the corner of the soft red velvet over his vertebrae.

 

When Timmy completes his circle around Armie and ends up back in front of him again, Armie’s flushed from his cheeks to the tops of his ears. His bowed head now points toward his erect cock. Its tip is glistening in the fading light and when Armie draws a shaky breath it bobs lasciviously. Timmy has to close his own eyes briefly to keep his own arousal from pulling him out of the scene. When he opens them again he pulls back the sides of the robe so that Armie can see he isn’t wearing anything underneath. Armie’s eyes flick up to meet Timmy’s and Armie takes his time bowing his head again, running his eyes slowly down Timmy’s body and making him harder than he already had been under the robe, knowing Armie was at his command.

 

“You know what to do.” Timmy keeps his voice clear, remembers his tricks from the set of The King, until he gets to the last word, which fights to get past his lips in his aroused state. 

 

“Yes I do.  _ Sir _ .” Armie has never called him this before and at the sound of it Timmy lets out a moan that feels like it came from the top of his spine and bypassed any part of his mind on its way out. Armie still won’t meet his eyes but raises his head until it’s level with Timmy’s cock. He reaches out slowly with his tongue, swirls it around the rosy tip, then pulls away for a moment before swiftly taking Timmy’s full length into his mouth, straight to the back of his throat, and Armie grabs Timmy’s hips to steady both of them, which is probably all that keeps them upright. He wraps one hand around Timmy’s cock, following closely behind his lips as he bobs up and down so that Timmy’s lost in the sensation, doesn’t know anything else to do other than thread his fingers through Armie’s hair, down the back of his neck, raking back up Armie’s neck with his nails. At that Armie moans, a hum that Timmy feels through the tip of his cock in the back of Armie’s throat, and it sends Timmy over the edge, a stuttering gasp escaping from his lips as his hands clench in Armie’s hair and he sags forward, the red cape falling around both of them now.

 

Armie pulls off him gently, plants a kiss on Timmy’s hip bone, and looks up to meet Timmy’s eyes. Armie’s eyes are bright, playful, yet still dazed with desire. Timmy unhooks the cape from his throat, throws it onto the bed, smooths it down. He settles himself along one side and pats the center of the cape with a come-hither glance toward Armie, who doesn’t need to be told twice. Armie stretches himself out along the cape, impressed with how its softness exceeds even his expectations.

 

“My turn,” Timmy murmurs, and Armie lays his head back against the white collar of the cape and closes his eyes. When Timmy kisses slowly up his inner thighs, closes his hand around Armie’s cock, works it softly, then insistently, Armie feels adrift on sensation. The furry cape beneath him might as well be a cloud, or a magic carpet. The gentle brush of the velvet against his thighs as he bucks up into Timmy’s hand keeps him on edge, and Timmy barely has a chance to get his mouth onto Armie’s cock before Armie’s tapping Timmy on the side of the neck, murmuring  _ god I’m so close, you feel so good, mmm Tim,  _ and then words are irrelevant as he spills into Timmy’s mouth, throbbing against the roof of his mouth and rubbing his back decadently against the velvet beneath him as he slowly comes down again.

 

Timmy grins, pleased with himself as always, and wriggles up Armie’s side to meet him with a kiss. Armie grabs one side of the cape and throws it over them playfully. “Mmmm, let’s sleep like this, hmm?” Timmy asks. Armie grins and ruffles Timmy’s curls, which have grown back nicely.

 

“What about this lovely cape of yours? We’re both a mess, and this will stain if we sleep on it.”

 

“Mmmph. Don’t care. Was worth it.” Timmy’s already slipping under, into the sleep that claims him within fifteen minutes of sex. “No costume department to worry about anymore.”

 

And as Timmy snuggles into Armie’s chest, both of them surrounded by the ethereal velvet softness, Armie’s suddenly very glad of that indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr, come say hi!


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